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Hanging near the stairs by Linvin was a vast array of whips and chains of varying length and thickness. A torture rack was prominently displayed in the center of the floor. It was there Miri lay, chained and stretched on all her limbs. Her clothing was tattered and bloodied by clear markings of flogging. Her left eye had taken a powerful blow and was swollen closed. Blood ran down her face and pooled on the table beneath her. So saturated was the wood on the rack from previous victims the fluid would not absorb. Thus, her hair so golden blond once before, had changed to blood red. Linvin hugged the inside wall of the stairwell to stay out of sight as he attempted to set aside his rage and locate his enemy. It was not long before Hugon came into view wearing black linens. He bore an iron gauntlet on his right hand covered with fresh blood from Miri. He had just pulled the wheels at the top and bottom of the rack tighter. The act stretched his victim further and pressed her back more firmly against spikes rising higher from the board with every turn. He stepped over to Miri and grasped her by the hair. “You are stronger than I gave you credit for being. Many have begged for death by now, yet you will tell me nothing.” Miri spit blood out of her mouth and yelled, “I told you I do not know any of the answers to your questions.” Hugon wound up his arm and slammed the gauntlet into her exposed side. “Ooooh,” he said in delight. “I know that one hurt. I heard a rib crack. Why are you protecting Romadon so fiercely? Your armies have beaten us every time we invaded. Nothing you could tell me would hurt their defenses that much. There is no need for you to keep suffering. Tell me what I want to know and I will end your life quickly. If you insist on testing my patience, I will make what you have suffered so far feel like a holiday.” “For the last time,” Miri yelled, “I know nothing about the army. Do your worst and have this over with.” Hugon chuckled as he removed the gauntlet. “You have just made my day better, Little Princess. First, I will use the white-hot metal tongs from the pit to rip your nose from your face. Now most people drown in their own blood but I hope you hold on. Then I will pull every toe and finger off one at a time. If you live through that, I will raise the spikes that now are only pricking you to a much more suitable height. Then I will lower a stone block on top of the remainder of your body and let it push the nails clean through your flesh. Once you are dead I will cut you into pieces for delivery back to your father. This will be a treat.” Hugon turned toward the hearth to fetch the blistering tongs. A sudden crack was heard in the air and a long whip sliced though the jailor’s shirt and dug deeply in a diagonal pattern across his back. He yelped in pain and turned hurriedly. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Linvin with whip in hand. “I told you no one puts leather to me and lives,” Linvin bellowed. “I will now fulfill that pledge.” “Grithinshield?” Hugon said as he stepped closer. “You were supposed to be dead by now.” “That is quite ironic when you think about it,” Linvin said as he stuck Hugon in the face with the whip. “Since it is now time for you to die.”